I love late months with their rumpled
and scrolled statements. Presence
of frost and cold moonlight. Sap

descends to root. Deciduous green
disappears leaving fiery scarlet
and turtlehead brown. Shedding

and decay show death but
is it a trick? What does the Monarch
know as it heads for the high

forests of Mexico? What wisdom
does the catfish carry as it lies
dormant in deep river holes?

Sure as morning
life preserves itself.